


Decrescendo (The Dead Letter Box Remix)

by kappamaki33



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Amputation, Drama, Hospital, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kappamaki33/pseuds/kappamaki33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six conversations in the infirmary waiting room after the <i>Demetrius</i> returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decrescendo (The Dead Letter Box Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so very, very much to my rockin’ beta, [](http://safenthecity.livejournal.com/profile)[**safenthecity**](http://safenthecity.livejournal.com/)!  
>  This is a remix of [](http://lls-mutant.livejournal.com/profile)[**lls_mutant**](http://lls-mutant.livejournal.com/)’s [Crescendo](http://lls-mutant.livejournal.com/236043.html), with inspiration and a few lines also drawn from [Five Times He Didn’t Say “I Love You”](http://lls-mutant.livejournal.com/212502.html)

The cacophony of the infirmary was several times louder than usual. In addition to the everyday glut of emergencies, the baseship had jumped in almost on top of a passenger shuttle, and the infirmary staff were scrambling to do triage on the dozen or so survivors. The cavernous room resounded with so many clattering gurneys, screeching monitors, screaming patients, and yelling nurses that Louis Hoshi’s frantic pleas and questions rang out over the chaotic din like fittingly discordant grace notes.

An orderly had a tight grip on his arm and was hauling him back toward the entrance before Louis even realized how crazy he must have looked to them all, rushing in heedless of privacy curtains and “Authorized Personnel Only” signs. But Helo’s words kept ringing in his head, like they had all through his interminable shift in CIC: _“Sergeant Matthias is dead. Gaeta’s wounded. You’d better get a Raptor to the_ Demetrius _quickly.”_

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but we’re way past regular visiting hours right now. You can come back in the morning.”

Louis struggled in the orderly’s grasp a little. “But I _can’t_ —I have duty in the morning again, and...Felix. Felix and I— we’re—”

It scared him that he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He’d relied on having time to put the proper words in place when Felix came home, and now—

“Thank you, Petty Officer. I can handle this.” The orderly let go of Louis’s arm and nodded to Nurse Ishay, who had apparently come to find out who was adding to the racket.

Louis wasn’t above begging. “Please, don’t make me—”

Ishay held up her hand. “Calm down and breathe, Lieutenant. He told me, so I would understand when you came down. He’s just come out of surgery, and they’re putting on the dressings and arranging the drainage tubes. You can see him as soon as that’s finished.”

Louis nodded absently. The very small part of him not occupied with worrying about how much pain Felix would be in, and how Felix was ever going to maneuver on this frakking antiquated bucket now, and whether Felix would let him help or shut him out again, wondered exactly what it was that Felix had said to Ishay.

But just as Ishay was about to walk away, he heard Felix scream in pain somewhere amid the maze of cubicles and screens.

He caught Ishay’s wrist. “What the frak—you said he just came out of surgery.”

Ishay looked grim, but she managed to look him in the eye. “Yes.”

“The anesthesia can’t have worn off that quickly.”

Ishay swallowed. “He had a local.”

“ _WHAT!_ What are you saving it for if you won’t use some of the frakking _real_ anesthesia when you saw a man’s frakking _leg off!_ ”

“Lieutenant,” Ishay cut him off. Her expression was frighteningly cool and professional. “He requested that he only have a local anesthetic, and Dr. Cottle honored that request.”

Louis hadn’t thought his world could turn upside down again, but the room was spinning. “Requested? He was in shock! He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.”

Ishay looked over her shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “I am not saying that I disagree with you, Lieutenant, but it was my superior officer’s call. If you want Felix to get the painkillers that he isn’t consenting to at the moment, either, you’ll shut up and let me take care of things quietly so Dr. Cottle doesn’t send me to the brig for insubordination and violating patient consent.”

Louis sighed. He couldn’t imagine what could be going on in Felix’s head—or, more accurately, he had an inkling, but he wished he didn’t.

A wide-eyed nurse who couldn’t yet be twenty approached them tentatively. “Sir—Reeves is closing up the wound, but—something about it doesn’t look right.”

Ishay whirled on him and snapped, “Closing up? The man was on a sewage ship—you don’t ‘close up’ an amputation with that kind of risk of infection. You two were supposed to prep him for delayed primary closure, like we _always_ do!”

The young nurse looked like he was about to throw up, and Louis was shocked himself; Ishay never lost her cool. Ishay apparently realized it a moment after they did, shaking her head and taking a deep breath. “Stop Reeves right now, and I’ll be back in a moment to clean up her mess,” she said quietly to the nurse, who set off immediately. She turned to Louis again. “You can see him as soon as he’s ready. I promise.”

Ishay left, and Louis found himself frozen in place as the infirmary bustled around him. It was quieter out here in the waiting area, but still almost too loud to think. Felix screamed again; Louis cringed. He heard Ishay’s voice, words unintelligible but frustration all too clear.

He turned and was surprised to see someone looking almost—not quite, but almost—as lost as he did. A small man in a flight suit stood with three military-issue duffel bags leaning against his legs and a sheaf of papers clutched in one hand. His face was white, and he was staring at Louis.

“You must be...” the pilot looked down at the papers. “You must be Louis.” Louis nodded, and the man continued, “I’ve got Gaeta’s stuff here. They put me in charge of cleaning the crew’s stuff out of the _Demetrius_. I didn’t know where his bunk was.”

“I’ll take it, Lieutenant.” He wondered how the pilot had known his name. Felix had insisted on keeping things between them very quiet, promising they could reevaluate that decision when he got home from the mission. The pilot fumbled through the bags, and when he found the one with the right nametag, picked it up and handed it to Louis.

“You should probably have these, too.” The papers were a little crumpled and sweaty from where the pilot had been holding them, but Louis recognized Felix’s handwriting instantly. “I’m Lieutenant Pike, by the way. I’m really sorry for what happened to him. It was crazy out there. I don’t think anybody who wasn’t there’ll ever believe what happened.” He paused. “So they did have to take his leg?”

Louis nodded, but he was only half-listening. He slumped into one of the plastic chairs in the makeshift waiting area, watery eyes fixed on the words in front of him.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _Don’t laugh._

 _Why do I even bother? I know you’re laughing. I can see your eyes lighting up and you shaking your head._

(He wasn’t laughing, of course, but he wished Felix was right. He could see it, too, the two of them home in the rack, Felix sheepishly insisting that this did _not_ make him a soppy romantic but secretly pleased that he’d guessed Louis’s reaction.)

 _Yes, I recognize that this is cheesy, but I’ve resolved to write to you while I’m gone, even though I can’t send the letters to you. In fact, it’s so cheesy, I’m not even sure I’ll let you see them when I get home._ (Louis considered stopping, but reality and loneliness weighed on him too heavily to set aside any scraps of possible comfort.) _It’s just so oppressively boring here, I have to do something besides plot jump coordinates and murder everyone at cards, or I’ll go crazy. (I already cleaned out Hot Dog and Pike—probably a bad judgment call on my part, doing it so quickly and eliminating that source of entertainment.)_

 _Not that a little more insanity on this mission would even be noticed by anyone. I realize I can’t talk about the mission or our progress in any of these letters, in case something should happen and the ship falls into enemy hands, but you know enough of what’s going on that you know exactly what I’m talking about anyway. Remember how you told me, “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” the night before I left? I take no joy in informing you that you were absolutely wrong._

 _I find myself thinking of you often. Probably not the most flattering thing on a sewer ship, but it's true. I miss you. I certainly don’t wish you were here—I wouldn’t wish this on anybody—but I wish I was home with you. I’m hoping that writing like this will help me miss you a little less, at least enough to keep my mind from wandering to more...pleasant activities while I’m on duty._

 _Speaking of, duty calls. Take care of yourself._

 _Felix_

“You seen Private Barolay come through here?” Pike asked, trying to stuff one of the bags under his chair so it wouldn’t be in the infirmary staff’s way as they walked past. Louis jumped; he hadn’t even noticed that Pike had sat down next to him.

“Who?” Louis asked.

“ _Jean_ Barolay,” Pike said, as if it meant something. He snorted in disbelief. “You know, the pro Pyramid star?”

Louis shrugged, barely paying attention. He was listening for Felix, but there was no more screaming. “Never was much of a sports fan. She was on the _Demetrius_ , too?”

“Yeah, and she went with Starbuck to the baseship. Godsdamn it. I’m a _pilot._ When the frak did pilots become mules for frakking...she’s not even a nugget yet. Thinks she’s hot shit because she was somebody before the Fall.”

Pike turned to Louis, obviously looking for some commiseration from him. Louis didn’t have the energy to empathize or argue, or even to figure out which he should do. When Pike saw he was getting nothing from Louis, he muttered, “Should’ve dumped it in Starbuck’s rack, too, and let Anders deal with it. Maybe she would’ve even gotten the joke.”

Had he been in almost any other situation, that odd statement would have intrigued Louis enough that he would have pressed for details. It wasn’t that he cared whom Starbuck or Barolay or Anders or any of that crowd slept with, but the colorful and generally sarcastic commentary Felix gave on such relationships made bringing home news of the latest hook ups and break ups something Louis looked forward to. But thinking about those easy conversations in the mess and the head and while getting ready for bed now just reminded him of how much he could have lost—how much he could still lose, if an infection set in. He shuddered, and because they were the only hope of comfort and escape he had at the moment, he turned back to the letters.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _Wow, are we lucky I can’t write porn to save my life. I briefly considered writing out descriptions of some of those “more pleasant activities” in the last letter, but thank the gods I didn’t, because Helo got a hold of it and recited a few sentences for the amusement of all the pilots and half the marines. He didn’t mean any harm by it. It was my fault for being sarcastic and saying I was writing a novel, not accounting for the fact that Helo tends to take things literally. How can someone be that close with Starbuck and not know sarcasm when they hear it?_

 _Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you were indirectly responsible for generating the most entertainment we’ve had on this damned bucket since we left the fleet. Helo is the only one who knows to whom I was writing, but I think it’s safe to assume our attempts to keep our being together out of the gossip ring aren’t going to work once the mission is over. I think I even caught Sergeant Linder rifling around in my bunk, looking for the letters—she’s one of the co-managers of the Frak Pool, isn’t she? (Which reminds me, I forgot to ask you to collect on my behalf if Snowbird and Skulls hook up while I’m gone. I had a feeling Skulls was going to make his move soon; hopefully, my feeling was wrong, and he’ll wait until I get home.)_

 _If it wasn’t for the smell, I think this mission would cause quite a few long-shot payouts in the Frak Pool. It’s not just the boredom. It’s so miserably hot that everyone walks around only half-dressed all the time. (You have nothing to worry about, though. Not only would I never do that to you, but you know how much I hate heat and humidity? Helo, wandering around in tanks, dripping with sweat, is not even doing anything for me. I’m that miserable. I didn’t know that was physically possible.) I accidentally walked in on Linder and that blond marine you think is cute in the head this morning, and I swear there were two people in Hot Dog’s bunk last night, though I can’t imagine who’d join him in there._

 _I wonder about Sam Anders and Jean Barolay, too. They’re together in the corner right now, leaning in close over a bottle of Joe’s Paint Thinner Whiskey (Not the bottle you gave me. I’ve kept that hidden quite well). Whenever he’s not up in the captain’s quarters with Starbuck—and he’s not there as often as you might guess—it seems like Barolay is always right by his side. I know I’m not the only one who has noticed this. I can tell it irritates Seelix. (If only I could make bets in the Frak Pool from out here! I could easily make enough for a weekend in a suite on the Rising Star. Not that the Admiral will ever give us concurrent R &R anyway.)_

 _And the two of them certainly have history together. I know you never followed Pyramid, but there were always rumors flying about the two of them. Before, I had always chalked that up to the media’s tendency to assume that two attractive, famous people who are friends must be frakking. Now, I’m not so sure._

 _And yet, I don’t get the feeling Barolay has the same sort of animosity for Starbuck that Seelix does, or even that those of us not angling to get in bed with Anders hold. Maybe we should put money on a threesome? I’m just glad Dee finally extricated herself from this Starbuck-centered love/lust...what, are we up to a dodecahedron by now? Mess—that’s the simplest descriptor._

 _Looking over this letter, I can’t believe how much it sounds like one of those celebrity gossip rags I was just ridiculing. It’s just that there’s nothing else to write about. Even if I could tell you about the mission, there isn’t anything to tell but the monotony of plotting jumps. I miss being able to talk to you. Writing to you is good, but I feel like I have to write about something. When I’m with you, it seems like we can talk about nothing much at all and still enjoy it. It’s the best break from reality I’ve found. (I can see you leering. Yes, I realize that shuts out the world quite effectively, too.) I’m looking forward to hearing all about what’s happened with you and in the fleet while I’ve been gone, but I find I’m looking forward to that kind of talking about nothing with you most of all._

 _Felix_

 _PS: I just realized how that bit about Anders and Barolay having history must have sounded. I swear I’m not worried about you because of your history. Even though the latest Frak Pool odds had you and Narcho at 3-to-1 odds versus you and me at 5-to-1, I get it. Especially since Dee and I are 3-to-1 as well, and I know the real likelihood of that ever happening. _(The rest was crossed out, but not so darkly that Louis couldn’t discern the words.) _If it’s anyone’s history that’s going to frak us up, I know it’s going to be mine, and not because of infidelity. Gods, if only it was as simple as cheating._

 _But if I come home and find out you’ve been fooling around with Simms, there’s going to be hell to pay. (I meant that sarcastically. I know you never would—I do. I think I’d better just shut up now before I put my foot in my mouth yet again.)_

“Oh, shit.”

Louis’s head snapped up, and he followed Pike’s gaze. He hadn’t noticed that they had a semi-unobstructed view of the morgue from where they were seated—not the best design for a visitor waiting room, but the infirmary hadn’t been designed to hold as many patients as it did now, either. Two orderlies rolled a body bag on a gurney into the morgue, a third man in a flight suit trailing behind. Then the third man turned so they could see his face, and Louis understood.

“No wonder I couldn’t find her,” Pike said. “ _Shit_. That’s what we get for trusting a frakking toaster. The Old Man’s crazy.” Pike looked to Louis for some kind of confirmation again. When he didn’t get it, he sighed, picked up the two bags, and made his way across the infirmary.

They were far enough away that Louis couldn’t hear the conversation over the activity in the rest of the infirmary, but he could tell what was happening. Pike stopped at the entrance to the morgue, caught Anders’ attention, and told him about the bag. Anders nodded and thanked him. Pike said something, probably offering condolences, and Anders nodded again, eyes wide and empty, jaw clenched, probably not able to speak without his voice giving too much away. Louis was surprised at how well Pike handled the situation, simply picking up his own bag and leaving Anders alone.

Louis watched, oddly fascinated by this man he barely knew. Anders started to unzip the body bag, but he turned away sharply once he got down to her face. He was puzzled when Anders felt down around the body’s knees, but when he cupped the edge of the bag between his palms, he understood Anders was holding her hand through the heavy plastic. He started speaking to her, his expression that of someone telling an old story, laughing through tears. Louis couldn’t help but remember standing in Anders’s place, far too many times. He turned away to give Anders some privacy, offering a quick prayer thanking the Gods for not putting him there today.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _It’s been an eventful few days for a change._

 _Sam Anders propositioned me last night. I have to admit, I’m rather proud, even if a large part of the attraction for him was the mutual contempt his wife and I hold for one another, and he was smashed. But still, to have an interplanetarily famous sports star think you’re hot enough to frak is definitely an ego-booster._

 _Also, I’m fairly certain Anders and Barolay are not lovers now, though I still get the feeling they may have been before. We talked a little while, and I could tell that in reality, he wouldn’t have cheated any more than I would have. And considering who he’s married to, and how many times she’s apparently done that to him, that kind of dedication is impressive._

 _Anders is all right. He has a Starbuck-shaped blind spot, but he’s hardly the only one, and he has a better reason for it than most. His faith definitely isn’t enough to inspire me with confidence, but I think I’d generally trust him in any non-Starbuck-related context._

 _You know what really meant something to me, even more than him apparently thinking I was attractive enough to piss off Starbuck? When he saw who I was writing to, he said, “When I get back to Galactica, I’m going to find Hoshi and tell him how lucky he is.” I know it’s silly—so silly I would never admit it to your face, and if I ever let you read these, I’ll probably black this paragraph out—but it’s nice to hear someone say I’m good for you rather than the other way around for a change. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be with, and I’m sure part of the reason you agreed so readily to keeping quiet about us is because you don’t want to deal with your friends telling you you’re out of your mind for wanting to be with a frakking basket case like me. _(Louis bit his lip when he read that. Of course, that hadn’t been the reason at all—he’d agreed to keep things quiet because he’d thought that was what Felix had wanted, what he needed. He would’ve agreed to almost anything to keep from scaring Felix away.). _Anyway, I’ll be curious to see if Anders ever does say anything to you, since whether he remembers will be a good way of judging just how drunk he was._

 _In other news, while I was on duty today, Seelix stole the fan you gave me. She pretended she’d found it in a storage locker down in the bowels of the ship (yes, I know, poor word choice for describing a sewage ship), so I threatened to go naked the rest of the mission if she didn’t give it back. She laughed. Big mistake. I jumped up on the mess table and started stripping as I complained loudly about how I was going to stay cool somehow, and it was in Seelix’s hands as to how. Helo and Pike convinced her to give it back by the time I was down to underwear and socks._

 _It was one of those weird situations where to an outsider, it must have looked like a joke on both sides, but between her and me.... I suppose it’s to be expected. I just never thought the tension would come out over something as prosaic as a silly fan (which I love, don’t get me wrong. I can’t thank you enough for it, though you’re welcome to start thinking up ways I can try to for when I get back). Anyway, I still don’t know why I came up with that particular tactic for getting it back. After all, if Sam Anders thinks I’m good-looking enough to frak, and you’ve certainly never voiced any complaints...._

 _Looking forward to properly expressing my gratitude for the fan soon,_

 _Felix_

Louis looked up when he heard someone cough. It wasn’t a nurse come to get him like he’d hoped. Sam Anders stood at the far end of the waiting area, squirming in his flight suit. He was the first person Louis had seen all day who he could honestly say looked worse than Louis felt.

He looked like he needed company, and Louis admitted he could use someone to pass the time with himself. He set the letters on a chair and crossed the room to where Anders was standing.

“Hey,” Louis said softly. “Waiting to see somebody in surgery?” Louis thought he would’ve heard if Starbuck had been injured, but she had been on the baseship, and communications from there had been spotty at best, even once Tigh and his marines had boarded.

“Maybe.” The look on Anders’ face reminded him of the hauntedness he’d seen in the eyes of a young marine who’d come back from the _Scylla_.

“Wish I could say waiting was the hardest part, but I don’t think it’s going to turn out like that.” Louis extended his hand. “Louis Hoshi.”

Anders startled with recognition and possibly something else that Louis couldn’t quite pinpoint. He shook his hand. “Sam Anders. You’re here for Gaeta—Felix, right?”

Louis nodded.

“He’s a good guy.” Anders scuffed the floor with his shoe. “How’s he doing?”

“They had to amputate,” Louis answered, the first time he’d actually said it out loud. He felt hollow, like the words still echoed inside him long after he finished speaking.

“Yeah, I know. Gods, he’s crazy, not wanting to be put under so he wouldn’t wake up with it gone.”

“He always did say it was better to face reality than to hide our heads in the sand, no matter how bad reality looked.”

Anders paced a little, clearly agitated. “I really hate to ask you this,” he said finally. “I came down here thinking I could do it myself, stupidly, and it’s just now dawning on me that there’s no way he’s gonna want to see me.”

Louis did his best to not look confused. “Uh, well, I don’t think he’s going to want to see much of anyone for awhile, even if he’s in a state where he’s actually cognizant.”

Anders stopped pacing and looked Louis in the eye. “I’m not trying to get out of it, I swear. As soon as he’s ready, I will be right down here, and I will say it to his face as many times as he wants to hear it. And I understand that he doesn’t want to see me, but if you let things like this drag out too long, they start to fester—oh gods, bad description, but you see what I’m trying—” Anders put his hands to his head in frustration. “All I’m asking is for you to get the ball rolling.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What...ball?”

“That I’m sorry. I want to apologize, even though I know that’s nowhere near enough. But I also know there’s no way he’ll see me.”

Louis was still befuddled, but a sinking feeling had now settled in the pit of his stomach. “I’m sure he’d appreciate your concern for him, but Felix understands the risks. He’s a soldier. I’m sure you did all you could to protect him....”

Anders closed his eyes, pained. “I don’t think you understand what happened.”

“A Cylon shot him,” Louis said slowly, dubiously. No one had told him what had happened yet, of course, but that was the only explanation that made sense. When Anders’ face went white, Louis felt a new kind of horror welling in his gut. “No. No...you may be Starbuck’s husband, but even she...you’d never....”

Anders just stared back at him, wide-eyed and despairing.

“You _motherfrakker!_ ”

Louis barely had time to relish the crack his fist made against Anders’s face and the startled guilt in his eyes as he stumbled backwards before orderlies descended upon the commotion. Two of them grabbed Louis’s arms as he struggled to get at Anders again, while a third approached Anders to examine his eye.

One of the orderlies holding Louis back said, “Come on LT, just leave quietly, huh? Don’t make us call the marines to drag you out of here and make even more of a scene.” But the suggestion that they’d send him away only made Louis fight them harder.

Anders brushed aside the woman trying to help him. “No, I’m all right. Leave him alone. I started it, and I was on my way out anyway.”

The orderlies’ grips loosened, though they still didn’t let Louis go as Anders walked past to get to the entrance.

Louis knew he should have felt at least a little gratitude towards Anders for taking the fall for his outburst so the infirmary staff wouldn’t kick him out, but the rage burned too hot to quell so quickly. He twisted free of the orderlies and turned toward the entrance.

“He _trusted_ you!”

Anders shot a fleeting expression of _how the hell would you know that?_ back, but a moment later, he flinched. Louis knew he’d hit a far more sensitive spot with his words than his fist. Anders disappeared around the corner.

One of the orderlies sat Louis in a plastic chair again. “Stay,” he said, wagging his finger in Louis’s face like he was talking to a dog. “Your ass is in that seat until somebody comes to get you. I will not tell you twice. Got it?”

Louis nodded, and the orderly stalked off. He spent a few moments just staring into space, trying to process what had happened, but he found himself listening for Felix’s voice amid the quieting din of groans and garbled orders and conversations rattling through the infirmary. More than ever, Louis needed to hear him, so he picked up the letters again.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _Don’t fall over from shock, but I had a good day today. A very good day, in fact, and you’ll never guess who made it that way._

 _No, not Starbuck—it was a good day, not a miraculous one. Seelix forced me to play cards with her, and she apologized for the Circle. By that I mean she actually said the words “I’m sorry.” I understand that certain people just don’t do that sort of thing, like the way Chief does his best to act like nothing ever happened, but it still means something to hear the words. The best part was, that’s all she said. No pushing, no “how do you feel about it” shit, just understanding._

 _This is another part I’ll cut out if I ever get the guts to show you these. Sometime I wish you’d do that. I know that it’s different between you and me than it is between Seelix and me, that you have a right to know so many things that are none of her business. But it’s so hard, sometimes—harder with you than it is with someone like her, if you want to know the truth, because I don’t care what she thinks of me. Never mind—I’m not making sense again. It’s too easy to bullshit in these letters when you’re not here to call me on it._

 _I’ve been thinking maybe you were right and this mission isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Take this conversation with Seelix. It never would’ve happened on Galactica, because it’s a big ship and it’s so much easier to avoid people. Here, we’re all in such close quarters and there’s so little to do that you almost have to find an excuse not to work out old grudges._

 _I think that might be a small part of the problem with Starbuck. She’s holed up in the captain’s quarters all the time, only deigning us with her presence to unveil new coordinates to us. This does not mean I think being locked in a storage closet with Starbuck for a few days would make us best friends. I’m just saying that if you’re in a situation where you can’t walk away, solutions tend to work themselves out, one way or another._

 _I hope you’re holding up all right. I hope the Admiral let you train Simms on communications like I recommended, because otherwise, you must be so short-handed in CIC you never get any sleep. I know I’ll owe you, Dee, and Thornton a drink or two or six when I get back. I can’t wait, but I’d better get back to cleaning Helo out at triad if I want to be able to afford it._

 _See you soon,_

 _Felix_

Louis looked up when he heard someone tapping on the plastic chair beside him. A woman with brown hair and a hard expression sat two chairs away, her flight suit slung around her waist and her fingers drumming an odd cadence on the chair between them. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she turned and pulled her hand back and said, “Sorry about that. Nervous habit.”

Louis shrugged. “It’s okay.”

They both faced forward, staring at nothing, but Louis could hear the woman shifting in her seat, tapping on her knee, exhaling slowly.

“You waiting for someone?” Louis finally asked.

The woman’s head snapped around. “Yeah.”

Louis gave her a better look this time and managed to match a name to her face. His stomach turned to ice. Felix may have made some kind of peace with her, but all Louis could think of was Felix on his knees in an airlock, refusing to beg.

“I’m not sure they’ll let me see him, though,” she continued. “You?”

“Ishay promised they’d let me see Felix once they finished with post-op.” He lifted the letters from his knee in explanation, and her eyes lit in recognition.

“So _you’re_ the mysterious letter lover,” she said kindly. She held out her hand. “Diana Seelix.”

“I know who you are.” He took the proffered hand, but he dropped it quickly and stared back at her with cold eyes.

She fidgeted in her chair again. “He’s a good man,” Seelix said after a few moments of awkward silence. “A hell of a lot tougher than people give him credit for.”

Louis turned away and pretended to read the letters again, though the words just swam in front of his eyes. “Don’t need to tell _me_ that.”

Seelix sighed. “What I meant was, _I_ hadn’t given him credit for it before.”

“Well, maybe if you’d given him an actual trial instead of abducting him and almost flushing him out an airlock without giving him the chance to explain himself, you would’ve figured that out earlier.”

“But—” She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and muttered to herself, “Gods, and I thought Gaeta was a bitch—you’re perfect for each other.” Then she said more loudly, addressing Louis, “Look. I’m sorry. We frakked up. He was against the Cylons as much as anybody, but we didn’t know it because he was so secretive about it.”

“Which he had to be. Which, if he hadn’t, you would have never gotten off that mudball.”

“I’m not arguing with you!” Seelix shot back at a pitch that suggested otherwise. “And if I had any lingering doubts—which I didn’t, but even if I did—they’re completely gone, after what he did on the _Demetrius_.”

Seelix had finally said something that piqued Louis’s interest enough that he swallowed down his anger and looked at her.

Seelix noticed it. “Starbuck went nuts out there.” Louis raised an eyebrow at that, and Seelix corrected, “Way more nuts than when she left the Fleet. Gaeta and Athena were the only ones in anything even close to command positions who didn’t have their heads shoved so far up their asses that they could see that.” She shook her head. “Did you hear they’re actually _negotiating_ with the baseship now? It’s like Starbuck’s craziness is catching, infecting all the brass.”

Louis considered asking more, how exactly he’d been shot and why they’d let his wound fester, but he could come up with some answers on his own, and none of them were good ones.

Seelix said quietly, “Since I’m guessing they won’t let me in to see him, I’d be grateful if you told him I was here, and that a lot of us appreciate what he tried to do. A lot of us _believe in_ what he tried to do. The _real_ Starbuck told us on New Caprica to fight ‘em ‘til we can’t. Tell Gaeta that a lot of us know he still believes that, even if whatever she is doesn’t anymore. A lot of us are willing to fight ‘em ‘til we can’t, no matter what that means.” She leaned in close and looked at him seriously. “No matter what. We mean that.”

Seelix stared back at Louis with a look of cold, determined defiance he hadn’t seen in a long time. Then he remembered: he’d seen it in Colonel Tigh’s and Starbuck’s faces right after they’d rescued them from New Caprica, when they were holding court in the rec room, ready to rip apart the crew to make a point.

“Okay,” Louis said, wondering what of that he actually would tell Felix. “You know, you don’t have to stay. Like you said, they aren’t going to let you in to see him.”

Seelix shrugged. “Not like I have anywhere else to be. Besides, you look like you could use a little company.”

Louis was about to tell her that was hardly necessary until he saw her lean her head back against the bulkhead and close her eyes. He relaxed. He didn’t want distraction, but silent company, that might be all right.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _You would think that things would get better the closer we got to going home, but the tension keeps growing. It’s because Starbuck—if it is Starbuck—really is insane._

 _Most of the others don’t see it, but Helo and I have to go up to her quarters for course corrections and instructions. I don’t think she sleeps. The place is a mess, with random things pasted and painted all over the walls like you see serial killers do in movies with newspaper clippings of their victims. She saw me looking at her little display last week, and she hasn’t let me in since—meets me at the door or has Helo relay orders to me instead. I put my head down and say “yes, sir” like a good little bridge bunny, but something is going to give. I just hope we can hang on to the pieces until we get home._

 _Seelix and I have been talking. Quietly, but talking. She even approached Helo about it, but I don’t think she got anywhere with him. Their discussion ended very amicably, and nobody burned any bridges, but no one made any progress, either. We probably should’ve found someone more neutral with Starbuck to talk to him, someone who’s both level-headed and who doesn’t have a bad history with her. Problem: that person doesn’t exist on this ship. I guess I can be thankful Seelix pulled it off better than I would have._

 _The problem is, Helo’s already aware of our concerns, on an intellectual level. He knows he’s running out of options. I understand why Adama made him her XO, but I think he made a mistake. He should never have put her friend in that position. I can hear you sighing and saying that’s Adama’s major fault. I’m not arguing with you anymore._

 _I had a strange dream last night. We were on Earth, but it looked a lot like New Caprica. Earth’s economy ran on some bizarre resource that we’d never heard of, so everyone from the fleet had to live in the slums. It wasn’t that bad, though. The inside of our place looked a lot like family quarters on Galactica, only with a kitchenette in the far corner. Hotdog and Gunny Praetor (who, by the way, was that second person in Hotdog’s rack) were our neighbors on one side, and Duck and Nora (I don’t think you knew them, but they lived on the same block that I did on New Caprica) were our neighbors on the other side._

 _For some reason—dream logic, I guess—we had to run away to another city, so we packed up our belongings and hopped on a bus in the middle of the night. We had to scare the other passengers by brandishing switchblades to keep them from stealing our stuff, but I kept falling asleep. You tried to keep me awake by telling me about the place we were going to—this beautiful white city on a sunny mountaintop, even though you’d never seen it, either. You made it sound like paradise. Then I woke up, so I didn’t get to see if you were right._

 _I guess it’s because I have Earth on the brain—how could I not? I don’t know if it’s out there or not, but it’s pretty to think it is. You know, we have a bad habit of putting things off until we find Earth. Not just the Fleet in general, but you and me. And I don’t really mean big things, either, because with some of those life-altering decisions, it really does make sense to wait and see what Earth is really like. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what if we don’t ever find Earth. There are some things that just shouldn’t hinge on something that might never come to be. There’s at least one thing I don’t want to put off anymore. Strange that I can’t bring myself to write it, but...when I see you again, I know I’ll be able to say it._

 _Miss you,_

 _Felix_

“Ensign.”

Louis’s head snapped up, even though it was the wrong rank. It took him a few moments to realize Helo was talking to Seelix.

Seelix stood up. “Yes, sir.”

“I need you to report to the hangar deck. Find Domino and help her prep your squadron for the transfer.”

Louis could see Seelix’s back tense. “Transfer, sir?”

Helo nodded slowly. “I know the Quorum hasn’t officially approved the alliance yet, but it’s only a matter of time. We need to be ready to move as soon as we get word.”

“Prep for transfer to the baseship, sir.” Seelix expertly inflected the “sir” with an unspoken “frak you.” Louis wondered if she’d learned that trick from Felix.

She started to walk away, eyes blazing and jaw clenched, but Helo put his arm out to stop her. “Hey, Hardball. Hold up. Look, I know you’re not happy about it, but this alliance, it could turn the tide of the whole war. The Old Man’s behind this, one hundred percent. It’s our job to follow orders, and our orders are to do this right and to sell it.”

Seelix shook her head and smiled bitterly. “‘Sell it?’ So, tell me, sir, are we going to find a way to ‘sell it’ in Jean’s and Matthias’s funerals—we now interrupt this eulogy of someone killed _by a Cylon_ to sell our alliance with them?”

“Ensign—”

“Is Gaeta going to have to ‘sell it,’ huh? Do what they did in the First Cylon War, send the crippled heroes back home to campaign for war bonds? Or maybe he’d work better as a warning, fall in line behind the crazy Cylon bitch, or we’ll shoot you?”

“Ensign! Don’t,” Helo said in that calm, steely voice that was far more intimidating than yelling. “You are so far out of line I’d bust you back down to nothing if we weren’t so short on pilots.”

Seelix took a deep breath, but her expression didn’t cool. “Yes sir, I was out of line. I understand this is out of your control.”

“Report to the hangar deck.”

Seelix nodded tightly. It was probably just a trick of the light, but Louis thought he might have seen the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Yes, sir.” She saluted. “Though you might want to work on your sales pitch, sir.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Louis and nodded to him before she marched out of the infirmary.

Louis knew Helo had been aware of his presence during the whole clash with Seelix, but for a moment, Helo was alone in the universe, head in his hands. Louis felt he was intruding, so he stared down at his shoes.

A few moments later, Helo’s hand settled on Louis’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Louis managed to pull his lips back, but the resulting expression was too weak to even be called a smile.

“Sorry you had to see that.” Louis waited in vain for the reassurance that should come after that, that no one in command expected anything more of Felix than to heal and to come back to work when he was ready.

“He’s in our prayers,” Helo added, nodding and giving a look that Louis thought was more than the rehearsed compassion of a superior officer.

Felix didn’t believe in the gods, but Louis did, and he didn’t think Felix would object to any help he could get at this point, anyway. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Helo walked away, leaving Louis alone with the last of the letters.

 _Dear Louis,_

 _I’m sorry I don’t have much time. I was going to burn the letters, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I flipped through them once more to make sure there’s nothing in them that’ll give away vital information to the enemy if we’re boarded, and nothing that’ll put you at risk if we do make it home but this plan blows up in our faces. It’s not even really a plan—it’s just a desperate hope that Helo’s finally come to his senses and will stay this way long enough for us to get home._

 _He’s up in Starbuck’s quarters now, hopefully telling her we’re done. I overheard Barolay talking to him about Starbuck, something about how Starbuck always keeps her promises. It was a good speech, I’ll give her that. I understand why she wants to believe it. But sometimes wanting and trying to keep your promises isn’t enough to make them come true._

 _That’s why I had to say this. I promised you that I would come back to you. I will fight to keep that promise, but the way things are going, I can’t guarantee it anymore. Even if I do get home, I’m afraid I might be cooling my heels in the brig for a long time, and due to...methods and tactics that you, the consummate Pegasus officer, I fear won’t understand. (Yes, you are still Pegasus at heart. Don’t argue with me on this. It’s not a judgment, but an observation.) Just know that whatever happens, I did this because it was the right thing to do._

 _I know that if this doesn’t work, you’ll probably never find these letters. I wish I had said it before I left, but I hope you know it anyway._

 __

 _Love you—_

 _Felix_

Those two little words cut Louis to the core. He had hoped, but he hadn’t known.

He imagined the two of them in the bunk again, Felix looking on nervously when he realized Louis was on the last letter. When he’d finished it, he’d set it aside and take Felix’s face in his hands. He imagined Felix saying the words, bashful and hurried, and all the more sincere for both. He heard himself saying them back, for the first time, then kissing him softly, and then spending the night in each other’s arms.

If this had been a love story, that’s how it would have ended, Louis thought to himself. But it wasn’t. He’d been a fool to think such things were even possible anymore, in a world as frakked up as what they had left.

Louis set the letters on the chair beside him and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his back and shoulders. It was early in the morning, some time that would’ve been around sunrise if they had a sun to mark time by anymore. The infirmary had quieted down: no more appointments, no more surgeries, just overnight patients trying to sleep and nurses and orderlies slipping in and out of cubicles.

The odd sheen of a flight suit caught his eye. He’d thought Helo had left right after Seelix, but he’d been wrong. He could see Helo in the morgue, head bowed. The body bag and gurney were gone, but Louis guessed from where Helo was standing that they’d placed Barolay’s body in one of the refrigerated drawers. He made some sort of sign with his fingers, then looked up and saw Louis staring at him. Louis turned away quickly, but it was too late; Helo approached him.

“Any word on how Felix is doing?” Helo asked.

“Alive. I don’t know anything else.” He was so drained that he didn’t think he could have that conversation yet again, so he changed the subject. “What were you doing over there?”

“I’m from Aerilon. We have a tradition, someone stays with the body and prays for the first full day after death. Doing it the right way isn’t really practical anymore, but...Jean deserved something. Matthias, too.”

“They all deserve better than what they get,” Louis said bitterly, not even really sure what he meant by it.

“Do you want some company while you wait?”

It was kind, but Louis could tell Helo’s heart wasn’t really in the offer. “No. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be ready soon, and I don’t want to overwhelm him with too many visitors at once, so....”

Louis didn’t so much hear as feel the relief radiate from Helo. He was a little angry with himself for letting Helo off the hook so easily. “I should get going, anyway. It’s been so crazy I haven’t even gotten a chance to see Hera since we got back.” Helo shifted uncomfortably. “But...I don’t quite know how to say this, but I think you should know.” He paused, but Louis didn’t move or respond. “Felix asked me to promise that I wouldn’t let Cottle take his leg.”

 _Frak._ Another broken promise, another apology, another cry to the helpless for help, another disaster dumped in his lap as if it were something Louis could simply hand to Felix and be done with it.

Louis looked up in consternation. “What the hell do you people think I can do for you?” It wasn’t fair to finally break and pile all his frustration on Helo, but then nothing had been fair about the way this mess of a mission had turned out, either. “You all talk to me like _I_ can grant you some sort of absolution, like I can fix things for you. I can’t do anything. I can’t do frakking _anything_ for him, and it’s driving me insane, so thank you very much for reminding me.”

Helo winced. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Hoshi. I hope you believe that. But that’s not what I meant. I told him I couldn’t make that promise, that I wasn’t going to leave early. The thing is, I think he _knew_ that. I think he wasn’t asking me to jump back early.”

Louis stared at Helo for a long moment before it finally sank in, then held his head in his hands. “Oh my Gods.”

“I told Cottle, but even once he’s out of here, he’s going to be on a lot of meds. I figured someone should know who can keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t...you know....” He ended with a tight shrug. Louis hated that Helo didn’t have the guts to say it.

Helo patted him on the shoulder. “And I wouldn’t say you can’t do anything for him. Gods know you can do more for him than I could.”

Helo left. Louis only had a few minutes of solitude to digest that statement before Ishay arrived. He hadn’t had nearly enough time for him to figure out if what Helo had said encouraged or terrified him.

“Lieutenant,” said Ishay as she entered the waiting area. Louis was surprised to see Doc Cottle behind her, so tired he looked like he might fall asleep standing up. “He’s ready to see you now, if you’ll come with me.”

After all the yelling and terror and drama of the past few hours, it was odd how quietly things actually turned out. Ishay and Cottle led him past rows of curtained bed-sits and exam areas, the only signs of life the beeping of heart monitors, a few low murmurs, and the occasional shadow moving inside.

“Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t remember this visit later. He’s not really all there,” Cottle told Louis.

“Because of the medications,” Ishay added quickly, seeing Louis’s panicked look of _dear Gods, not something else._ “I considered waiting on giving him the powerful painkiller so you could actually speak to him, but I thought you would understand.”

“No, you made the right call.”

Cottle gave Ishay a sidelong glance. “Funny, how he changed his mind about the morpha. He was so adamant about not wanting anything that would dull his mind before.”

“Yes, well, I suppose Reeves’ frak-up with the sutures changed his mind,” Ishay returned tightly, giving Louis the feeling that there would be another round to this discussion once he was out of earshot.

“No skin off my nose,” Cottle grumbled. “Never took Gaeta for the religious type before, though. Wasn’t he Aquarian? I didn’t know any of their sects were anti-medicine.”

“He’s from Picon, actually, and he isn’t religious,” Louis said quietly. “He’s afraid of losing control, of accidentally letting something slip when he’s vulnerable.”

Ishay and Cottle exchanged glances, but Cottle just shrugged. They stopped at a curtained-off cubicle. Cottle peeked in. “Don’t wake him. Sleep is the best thing for him right now. Some time tomorrow, when he’s more lucid, I’ll come by and explain how the procedure went, follow-up care, physical therapy. I take it you’d like me to wait until you can be there, too?” Louis nodded.

Ishay and Cottle left him there. For the first time since he’d heard Helo’s voice on the wireless, Louis hesitated at the prospect of seeing Felix. He took a moment to steel himself, then parted the curtain.

To be honest, after having had hours for a parade of horribles to swarm his imagination, the actual sight wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. Felix was gray and sweaty, and the odor Louis had noticed on everyone he’d met who’d been on the _Demetrius_ clung to Felix particularly strongly in the small space. And his leg muscles above the bandages twitched...no, he wasn’t ready to think about that part yet. But Felix wasn’t as overwhelmed by tubes and wires as Louis had envisioned, and the heart monitor was beeping a steady, reassuring rhythm. He sat down and took Felix’s ice-cold hand between his, rubbing it to warm his fingers.

He hadn’t realized his eyes had fallen shut until he heard Felix say, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He took Felix’s hand in his own again. Felix’s eyes were glassy and unfocused; Louis supposed he should be grateful, since that probably meant the morpha was working. “How are you?”

Louis mentally kicked himself as soon as he said it. Felix opened his mouth as if to respond, but Louis could see him lose the desire to take a sarcastic shot back at him. The tension in his face as he closed his eyes and breathed out was as eloquent as any words could have been.

Louis leaned in and gathered Felix into his arms. Even though he was sitting on the side of the uninjured leg, the embrace was still awkward, with the bedrail digging into his side, Felix still smelling like he’d stepped off a sewage ship, a tangle of heart monitor wires and IVs to avoid, and most of all, Louis’s terror at not knowing what to say.

He knew what he wanted to say— _I love you. This doesn’t matter. I still love you, and you’ll always have me._ But he knew Felix wouldn’t take the words at surface-value right now, even if that was all he meant. The last thing Felix needed was to feel he was being pitied or pushed into saying the words out loud himself, so Louis gave him the silence he did need.

After a long time sitting like that, Felix whispered in his ear, “Did we find it? Earth?”

Louis hadn’t thought his heart could break again. He was thankful they were still pressed cheek to cheek, because he didn’t think he could have told the lie to Felix’s face. “Not yet, but it sounds like they have a good lead.” He pulled back, still supporting Felix with one arm wrapped around him but freeing his other so he could cradle Felix’s head and run his thumb along his cheek. “You did good, baby. No matter what happens, you did good.”

Felix closed his eyes again, and Louis slowly lowered him back down to the bed. “D’you have any idea how much crow I’m gonna have to eat if it turns out Starbuck’s _right_?” Felix slurred, trying to laugh but ending up almost gagging. “Hell, I’ll kiss the ground she walks on, if she finds us good, solid earth.”

“Kissing dirt is fine, but no kissing of anything animate but me. I don’t care how grateful you are for Earth. I’m not sharing you.”

Felix couldn’t quite smile, but he breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. “Frak you.” He felt Felix relax into sleep again.

As he looked down at Felix’s pale face, Louis wished all he had to worry about was how much pain Felix was in, how Felix was ever going to maneuver on _Galactica_ now, and whether Felix would let him help or shut him out again. Louis knew he couldn’t bring himself to add to Felix’s burdens, no matter how long he’d been waiting to say the words, to hear them returned. He’d destroy the letters before he went back on duty. As far as anyone but a couple pilots knew, they had been left behind on the _Demetrius_.

Louis knew he couldn’t fix any of the mess that was bound to greet Felix when he woke. He wasn’t even sure if his duty schedule would let him be by his side when Felix opened his eyes. But he would be there as much as he could. Hopefully, that would be enough, and maybe, in time, they could get back to where they had almost been. Louis silently thanked the gods that, even though they hadn’t given them a happy ending, at least they hadn’t given them an ending today.

Maybe, someday, it would turn out to be a love story after all.


End file.
